


watching you

by Areiton



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Second Person, Pining, Secret Relationship, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 11:19:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14019138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: You watch.You feel like, since Teen Wolf ended, you spent half your time, watching.





	watching you

You watch. 

You feel like, since Teen Wolf ended, you spent half your time, watching. 

You watch his interview, watch his movies, watch his career, watch him flourish. 

You watch him get hurt and flounder in your helplessness, desperate to reach out to him and frozen in place, unwilling to ask for the more that you want, that he has never asked for. 

You’ve watched him battle back, watch him fight for his health and sanity and career, watch him guard himself even more than he ever has, watch as he and Brit drift apart. 

You watch his mounting frustration and anger with the showrunners, with cast mates and decisions he can't control, watch his hurt and happiness when you leave. 

You watch it all because you aren't allowed more than that, aren't invited to comment, to impact. 

He comes to you, sometimes. 

Comes to you and touches you, and for a few blissful hours, you’re allowed to touch, allowed to take, and you watch him gasp and writhe, watch his lips fall open as you take him apart, watch him break with little moans and tiny hitches of his breath, watch his gorgeous whiskey eyes slide closed and he pleads, begs you for everything you want to give him but everything you don’t always get to. 

He doesn’t watch you, while you finger him open, when you lick his dripping cock and suck him down, while you press into him, fuck him slow and easy while your hands bracelet his wrists, holding him down and marking him up. 

He doesn’t watch you. 

Not here. 

But when you’re at parties, when you drift through a room full of friends and press and strangers who think they know you, you can feel him. 

Feel that hot alive electric gaze burning into you, and you straighten under it, smile wider, fucking  _ preen _ because he’s watching and you think that the world has been watching you since Perdition, but his is the only gaze you’ve craved, and it’s yours. 

It’s yours. 

He watches you, when you’re riding him, when your voice falls away and you can only make incomprehensible begging noises, broken and wanting, and his hands on your hips are almost violent in their possessiveness, and he murmurs, his voice fucked out and rough,  _ “ _ That’s it, baby. Take what you need.” 

You want to tell him  _ he is what you need _ but you don’t, you can’t, you don’t have the fucking  _ words _ , just a high moan as you come hot and thick across is belly and his eyes go almost feral. 

He watches you, when you’re surfing, a pale beacon on a dawn shrouded beach, huddled in a blanket and wrapped around coffee, but his gaze is bright and never falters, never leaves you. 

He watches you while you work out, and then he presses you against a wall and sucks you off with an enthusiasm you’ve never gotten used to and comes against your leg, laughing up at you while he whines through it, and it’s so him that it leaves you breathless. 

You watch him and you always have--but he watches you. 

He watches you now, and it’s different. A heavier pressure, a silent question that makes you ache and you want to let go of the girl you’re dancing with, want to go to him, want to meet that heavy warm gaze that keeps you grounded and makes you fly. 

You are so tired of watching. 

Of being in places like this and not taking what is yours, what you want. 

You finish the dance and look to the table where Ian and JR are laughing, oblivious to anything but each other. 

They’re happier than you’ve ever seen and you think you deserve that too. 

You want that too. 

You make it to the ballroom doors when a hand snags your elbow and you know even as you turn who it is. 

“You’re not gonna watch them cut the cake?” 

You shrug and look away because if you’re going to be this close to Dylan, dressed in a suit, a wedding cake bright and white nearby, you want it under different circumstances, you want it  _ with _ him, a ring on your finger and his and the whole fucking world watching you both. 

“Tyler,” he whispers, and you look away, because he’s watching you and you’ve never been good at keeping your feelings to yourself, not when they’re about him. 

He can read you like an open book. 

“You beautiful idiot,” he murmurs, and hauls you in, kissing you deep and wet and full, a promise in the press of his lips, in the curve of them against yours, in the way he licks into your mouth when you gasp, licking it from your lips and swallowing it down, claiming it and you. 

You kiss him and close your eyes in a crowd. You can hear Colton laughing and Ian is shouting in triumph and glee. 

His hands are on you, one tight and heavy on your hip, the other a gentle caress against your jaw, and his lips are softer now. You pull away, just a little, and watch him smile. 

“You didn’t want--” 

“I don’t care,” he murmurs, kissing you again, and it’s drunk happy glee in his eyes. “I don’t care who the hell knows.” 

You kiss him now, shove him into the wall and kiss him hard and dirty and he groans and the whole world could be watching--but it’s ok. Because you both have your eyes on each other, watching the only thing that matters. 

**Author's Note:**

> One day, I'll write these two bastards happy and fluffy. One day.   
> Today isn't that day. Obviously. 
> 
> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://areiton.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
